


Closer

by Lady_Hircine



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, It's a love hate relationship, Light Angst, Reluctantly Falling In Love, Slow Burn, Widowmaker being frosty, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Hircine/pseuds/Lady_Hircine
Summary: Tracer tries really hard. Seriously. It's not like she intended to fall for the cold blooded assassin of a major terrorist organisation. That part just came sort of accidentally. And Widowmaker was absolutely no help. But if she was being completely honest, it was maybe... probably mostly her own fault.A series of moments between Tracer and Widowmaker throughout the years.





	1. Act 1

_This mission was supposed to be simple_ , was all Lena could think as she narrowly avoided the hail of bullets streaming over her head. But she figured that nothing ever really worked out that way, especially not when it came to Overwatch. She tried not to think about the noises surrounding her, the gunfire, the cries of agony and shouts for assistance. She needed a clear mind as the Talon forces assaulted them head on. Wave after wave, they were relentless.

Their team was on the streets in a city in South America, moving from one to the next as they traveled with their payload. At every turn they were met with resistance. It was a grueling experience. Talon had always been a force to be reckoned with.

Something about this particular battle didn’t sit well though. Call it a gut feeling, but Lena was certain the enemy was attacking with more formation than she’d ever seen Talon muster before in their many encounters with the criminal organization.

A loud _crack!_ rang out in the distance, two more followed in quick succession. Three Overwatch agents dropped dead, and Lena’s blood ran cold. Several more shots rang out, each one hitting its mark and wreaking havoc on the streets. Snipers had always been a very concerning, very dangerous reality of warfare, but this was something else.

“ _Somebody take that sniper out_!” Morrison’s voice screamed over the comms and Tracer responded immediately.

“I’ve got this one!” She was gone in a blink of blue, moving to the sidelines to see just where the sniper had positioned themself.

 _Bingo_.

Tracer saw the familiar flash of a scope along the rooftops and was quick in her approach as she tried to get the upper hand.

Jumping as fast across the rooftops as she was able to, she rounded the building, trying to see if she could flank them and catch them off guard. But as always, nothing was ever that simple and today really was shite.

Tracer dodged a bullet sent in her direction, only managing by blinking away. Another followed, along with several more, but her movements were too erratic for the sniper to land a hit. A slight smirk formed on her lips as she could practically feel the frustration oozing out of her opponent. She was close now, close enough to make out several things about them.

One: by the looks of the tight catsuit, the sniper was most definitely and decidedly female.

Two: her skin was so sickly in colour she looked like she was seconds away from going into hypothermic shock; the skin available for Lena to see was tinged a frosty blue colour. The thought left her feeling extremely unsettled. This woman was giving her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies.

And, three: she was looking at Tracer with the most murderous expression that had ever been directed at her in her young life. A nervous jitter ran through her body as she dared to move even closer.

“Something the matter, love?” Tracer forced out against her better judgment, trying to regain a sense of self. This is not at all what she expected to find. This was supposed to be easy, in and out. Not like this.

The strange woman opened fire. Tracer noted that apparently the sniper rifle also doubled as an assault rifle so it was twice the _fun!_ Blinking away before any of the shots could land, she fired her own blasters in response – much to the irritation of her opponent.

“Enough of this,” the sniper hissed out between her teeth, and Tracer thought her voice sounded vaguely familiar, like she'd heard it somewhere before. A French accent coloured her words. Tracer blinked forward, and it wasn’t long before they were caught in something that resembled a dance, only much deadlier.

“What’s the matter, love?” She called out cockily, trying to keep her footing, “Can’t take the challenge?”

Her eyes couldn’t even follow the sniper's movements as they happened so fast, an elbow suddenly smacking hard into her face, knocking her flat on her back and taking her completely off guard. _Fuck_. Weight pressing down on her hips followed as the assassin's face loomed over her, a curtain of dark hair cascaded over her shoulder.

Tracer felt her stomach drop as she looked closely at the woman who was about to become her killer. She knew she'd heard that voice before.

It was Amélie Lacroix. The same Amélie that had disappeared a few years prior, presumed dead. Lena didn’t know her personally, but she knew of her, of what happened with Talon and the death of Gerard. At this point she was certain that she could classify it as a murder.

“Amélie Lacroix?” She gasped out, wide eyed and staring. The woman above her barred her teeth in anger.

“Do _not_ address me by that name.” Each word was enunciated as though it was a threat. Coming from the likes of her, she supposed that's exactly what she meant it to be.

Amélie used Tracer's moment of shock to her advantage and went in for the kill.

Tracer recalled as she moved away, retracing her step, going backwards in her own time. Amélie was quick to recover as well.

“What happened to you?” The words weren’t meant to come out, but Tracer had never been one for holding back. She stared desperately into cold, emotionless eyes as she waited for an answer that never came.

Amélie sneered, lashing forward, trying to finish what she started.

“Why are you doing this?!” Again, no answer to be heard. Their dance continued, the pace faster than before.

One false step and Tracer reversed their positions from earlier, knocking the other woman to the ground and looking into golden, predatory eyes. There was nothing but anger in them, clearly she was furious that Tracer had managed to get the better of her.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

“Oui.” That... wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Or hoping for, really. Amélie continued, “Lena Oxton, also known as Tracer. Affiliation: Overwatch.”

Tracers eyes narrowed at the cruel smirk that formed on blue lips. “Je t'connais,” she paused, before leaning in close, “I just don’t care.”

With those words she flipped them both, and looked towards the battle below them with a somewhat satisfied smirk.

“It looks like we are going to have to cut our rendezvous short.” She put her face dangerously close again, and Lena felt her entire body freeze at the proximity. Cool breath washed over her face, making her flinch. “Adieu, chérie.”

With that she slammed her fist into Tracer’s chronal accelerator, digging her fingers underneath it. She gripped it tightly, and in one fluid motion, threw her off the roof. The only sensation she felt was the rush of air moving past her as she fell towards the ground, everything going black.

By the time she finally came to, she was in the Overwatch infirmary. A damaged chronal accelerator, several broken ribs and a cracked skull, but other than that she was none the worse for wear. When she was coherent enough, Morrison debriefed her on the situation. That was the first time she heard Amélie's new name. Talon’s prized new weapon, The Widowmaker. Permanently reconditioned into a cold and ruthless killer, with a heartbeat slowed down to an unnatural rate. There was very little known on what had happened to her after her initial capture by Talon. It was assumed that she had been brainwashed, coerced or convinced to join them, but no one could really say for certain which was the truth. The effect however, remained the same. The briefing left her with a bitter taste in her mouth, as she was certain that she would be seeing more of this Widowmaker, this eerie creation that Talon had forged.

 

 

 

Overewatch was always busy. There was always something to do, somewhere to go. Tracer had found herself in many operations dealing directly with the terrorist organization Talon as they tried the stop it's spread of influence. Which naturally meant that she got to spend more and more time with her favourite sniper. Their battles became a regular occurrence, a dance that was theirs and theirs alone. Only Widowmaker and Tracer knew the steps, following them with deadly precision. Every time Talon and Overwatch clashed, they ended up in the same situation. But the dance was always changing, both of them keeping up with whatever the other could possibly throw.

The mission had taken them to Numbani, as Talon had it's eyes set on the legendary Doomfist which would be featuring in their next exhibit. Overwatch had a keen interest in making sure that weapon remained purely as an exhibit. As always, Widowmaker was present, giving the Overwatch agents hell form the rooftops. And as always, Tracer was the first to intercept.

“You know, love, we’ve _really_ got to stop meeting like this!” Tracer yelled from behind the wall that was currently the only thing keeping her from being turned into a messy Lena shaped stain on the ground. _One of the many hazards of the job_ , she thought with a sigh.

She ducked out from the wall and fired shots in Widowmaker’s general direction.

“Did you have something more...” she paused as she fired another volley, “ _Enticing_ in mind, chérie?” Tracer blinked away before any of the hits could land, and Widowmaker’s lips curled up at the edges in an almost mocking smile. Tracer thought at this point it was impossible for the woman to make any sort of expression without it having cruel undertones. She fired a grapple and swung herself, knocking Tracer back on her ass. _Ouch_.

Getting up, she avoided the blow aimed for her head, moving away and drawing the other woman closer to the edge of the building. Just a bit more...

“Yeah, I was thinking maybe dinner and a movie?” She let out a quiet giggle and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Widowmaker fired again, this time with seemingly renewed vigor. _Typical_.

“ _Well_ ,” Tracer said as she maneuvered away from her, feet teetering dangerously close to the edge now, “seeing as we spend so much time together as it is, I figured why not get to know each other more, hmm?”

Tracer watched as her right eyelid twitched in irritation, Widowmaker’s face hardening into an aggravated mask.

Lena grinned, challenging. “It’ll be my treat?”

She felt a foot connect with her stomach, knocking her rolling onto her side and ruining her plan to toss the assassin off the roof. _Shit_ that woman had fast reflexes.

“I take it that’s a no, then?” her voice came out ragged, practically a gasp as she rolled to the side to avoid having her skull crushed under fancy purple boots. That wasn’t exactly the way she wanted to go.

“Must you always be so _annoying_?” She sounded exasperated. Good.

“What can I say,” Tracer moved fast, searching for her exit plan, “it’s a part of my charm.”

“Indeed.” The word was dripping with sarcasm and derision, and Lena watched as the woman eyed her up and down with distaste. Tracer felt her own ire growing by the second.

“Well, love, it’s been great, but I can’t stay here with you all day. Places to go, people to see and all that,” she winked, and gave a quick wave of her hand as Widowmaker snarled at her. _Always leave them wanting more_ , Tracer giggled to herself as she thought of the frustrated look on Widowmaker’s face. So, so worth it.

 

Time spent back at the base was almost always somewhat uneventful. Tracer, being who she was, never managed to stay still. She was constantly restless, itching for a battle, or a purpose, or anything really. Better than just being _bored_ all the freakin’ time. _She was supposed to be out there, saving the world!_ Lena thought to herself as she flopped back on her bunk. Trying to think something that she could do, anything to keep the boredom from setting in, she let her eyes wander, taking in the space around her.

The space almost reminded her of a hospital, with the way the white shiny floors glistened, pristine and well kept. It was minimalistic and bare, aside from the few personal touches agents were allowed to add around their own assigned bunks. Tracer had hung up a few select movies posters, cult classics and the like, along with some trinkets from friends over the years. She did what she could with the space. It might not have been much, but it was home. The people made it that way.

Lena’s mind wandered idly, thinking about recent affairs, Overwatch’s progress. She tried not to think about the state of the world, the war ravaged cities and countries she’s been to. The ever growing tension that always seemed to be present in the air. One thing she’d definitely like not to think to deep on was the glowing blue light coming from the center of her chest. No, she couldn’t let herself think about any of that. She squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her head, which was easier said than done. It was so full lately.

Eventually she managed to relax, drifting thoughts keeping her relatively distracted and not as bored as she could be, she supposed.

Familiar long, dark hair and a frosty blue pallor drifted into her mind. Tracer went with it, her burning curiosity over the strange woman getting the better of her. She wondered what Talon did with her when she wasn’t operating. Did she have her own personal quarters on base? Did they let her wander freely whenever she wasn’t trying to murder someone?

She giggled quietly to herself as she pictured Widowmaker in her decked out in her bodysuit and rifle, ordering some kind of fancy drink at a cafe and wandering around a shopping center. Trying to picture it just seemed so... _ridiculous_. Out of place.

Tracer could only picture her on the battlefield, rifle at the ready and poised to kill. She also supposed this was really the only context she’d ever actually seen Widowmaker in, but that was beside the point. Their dance to the death had left Tracer feeling exhilarated with the challenge, the feeling sticking with her long afterward. She was beautiful and deadly, the battlefield was where she thrived. She was almost looking forward to the next time they might – wait. Her brain seemed to short circuit at that thought.

Wait, what?

She shook her head in shock. Beautiful? Where had that come from? Looking forward to it? Why on earth was she looking forward to fighting a murderous, cold blooded killer? Tracer felt vaguely disturbed by the thoughts that plagued her, like it was something she shouldn’t be thinking of. Scratch that, she definitely should _not_ be thinking about it!

She smacked her hands against her face and rubbed at her eyes in frustration.

She shouldn’t be having thoughts like these over someone who tried to kill her. Not just once but actively, and on a regular basis. Suddenly feeling strange, she shot out of her bunk and headed to the practice range. She needed to clear her head. In the back of Tracer’s mind though, thoughts of long dark hair, golden eyes, and pretty, angular cheekbones played on repeat.

Shit.

 

 

 

The dance went the same as it always did, Widowmaker firing a blaze of bullets in her direction with nothing but pure, murderous intent while Tracer blinked and zipped away, annoying the assassin to no end, something she took no small amount of pleasure in doing. Tracer felt the familiar rush of energy and excitement flit through her body as they played their game of cat and mouse. She was pretty sure she was even getting the upper hand in this one.

Until Widowmaker changed the pace, that is. Tracer watched in confusion as the woman smirked at her, and not her usual ‘ _I’ve got you now, you little pest_ ,’ smirk that was self satisfied and cruel, no, this was different.

Expecting her to deftly move away from her frontal charge as always, Lena blinked forward when she suddenly collided with Widowmaker, letting out a loud _o_ _of!_ andknocking the two of them back and skidding several feet across the ground. Lena felt disoriented, trying to catch her breath as she took in their new position. Her own legs straddled Widowmaker’s hips, whose hands gripped into said hips like a vice. It was bordering on painful and Tracer winced at the feeling. The assassin's hand slid slowly upwards from where it gripped her hip to Tracer’s hand.

Tracer’s face flushed deep red, totally and utterly confused.

She watched as the woman beneath her gripped the hand holding her pulse rifle and pointed it towards her own chin.

“Do it.” She said the words with conviction. The air was quiet.

Lena gaped. Looking deep into Widowmaker’s eyes, she saw nothing but smug satisfaction, and a spark of something else. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know exactly what that meant. _What angle was she playing at_?

“Kill me,” she continued, her voice surprisingly even for someone who had a loaded gun pressed against their skull by someone who’d tried to kill them on numerous occasions. “This was your goal, _non_?” She dug the tip of the weapon further into the skin under her chin.

“Here is your chance, chérie,” she continued as though she were talking about the weather. Lena felt her own heart beating painfully fast in her chest. “You may never get another quite like this.”

Lena sat there, straddling the woman’s hips, dumbfounded. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. And yet...

Why wasn’t she _doing_ anything? The assassin was right, was this not the goal of their little game? A fight to the death? Whoever happens to die first loses?

Then why couldn’t she bring herself to pull the trigger?

“I don’t...” Tracer trailed of, eyes searching Widowmaker’s for a sign, anything that would tell her what she was thinking. As always her expression was unreadable, except for the hint of smugness that seemed to permanently colour her features.

Tracer got to her feet quickly, removing herself from the situation she was in. Everything felt wrong. A heavy, sickly feeling had settled in her stomach, making her want to retch. What was wrong with her? Widowmaker followed her to her feet, standing with conviction and an eerie calm that just made Tracer feel sicker. Lena took a step back.

“It wouldn’t be right..” She muttered, frowning at the strange feeling in her chest and in her gut. “It wouldn’t _feel_ right.”

Widowmaker watched her with something that closely resembled amusement.

“You do not because you _cannot_ , chérie,” she took several graceful steps forward, approaching Tracer slowly but with confidence. “I have given you many opportunities to do so,” she continued, pointing her rifle down towards the ground and putting her other hand on her hip. She was an open target, completely exposed. Lena couldn’t move.

“Yet, you never take the shot. As if something is holding you back” She felt a cool touch on her cheek, jerking her out of her trance as she flinched. When did she get that close?

She shuddered as she tried to step back. The touch became a hard grip suddenly, forcing Tracer’s eyes back to her face. There was a cruelty in those gold eyes, and a keen interest as well. It was the most open Tracer had ever seen her expression so far, and she felt her knees buckle under the intensity of it. Widowmaker’s gripped softened unexpectedly, traces of a bitter smile flitting across her face. The cool grip disappeared.

Widowmaker leaned in at an almost glacial pace, breath on her cheek as she moved in close. A cool pair of lips grazed against her ear, making her shiver uncontrollably.

“ _Adieu, chérie_ ,” Widowmaker whispered into her ear. Tracer let out a shaky breath, just now noticing that she’d been holding it. The assassin pulled back, giving Tracer one last indecipherable look, before firing her grapple at a building in the distance. And just like that, Tracer was alone on the rooftop. Her whole body felt numb.

What the hell was that?

 

 

 

Being the woman that she was, Lena Oxton was always up for an adventure. Which is how she found herself in the middle of Paris, ready to go to a rally in the name of peace between both humans and omnics alike. Tensions in Paris had been growing high lately, as they were in almost every major city, and Lena found herself stationed there on business anyways. Considering how well the last rally had gone, she also wanted to be there in case any... complications came up again. She didn’t want a repeat of Mondatta.

A bounce in her step and humming a little melody, she walked down the streets of Paris, feeling pretty good for once. Things hadn’t exactly been great for the past few years, but with Winston doing the recall things seemed to be turning around for the better. At least, she hoped so. She continued to walk and passed by a cafe, when she saw something out of the corner of her eye and froze in her tracks. No, not something. Someone.

She did a quick double take to confirm her suspicions, and _yes_ , she was definitely not crazy.

That was Widowmaker, sitting there in simple casual wear, sipping at a latte and admiring the Parisian scenery. Dressed in jeans and a form fitting black sweater, she was stunning. _She could wear anything and look good_ , Tracer thought as she watched the unsuspecting woman. Well, she thought she was unsuspecting. Her eyes trailed to her face, noting how she seemed more at ease than Tracer had ever seen her before. Although considering the circumstances of their usual meetings she really shouldn’t be all that surprised. Deadly combat should make anyone tense up.

Tracer stared for a moment longer, suspicious at her presence. Was this a pre-assassination cafe trip? Maybe she liked to prelude murder with caffeine and French pastries? _Okay_ , Tracer admitted to herself, _that would be ridiculous_. Still, something just didn’t sit right about this. Should she attempt to go talk with her, distract her if she could? The thought was more than a little bit appealing.

And really, who was she to pass up this golden opportunity to annoy her favourite elite assassin? Her mind was made up then.

“Lovely day for a stroll, don’t you think, love?” She said cheerfully, plopping herself down in the chair across from her nemesis. If she could even call her that at this point. There was something else there, just beneath the surface. Lena knew it, and she knew that Widowmaker knew it too. Neither were willing to acknowledge it.

Hard, golden eyes flicked up, although there wasn’t nearly as much surprise there as Tracer would have liked. A slight, amused smile formed on her lips.

“I was wondering whether you would join me,” she said, an air of faux innocence in her tone. “You stood there for so long, and seemed so deep in thought I wasn’t sure what you were going to do next.” Tracer felt her ears burn and her cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“Well, what can I say,” she fired back, “I wasn’t sure I wanted to be your mealtime entertainment for today. Had to give it some consideration.” Widowmaker raised a single, angular eyebrow at this.

“Are you planning on entertaining me, _chérie_?” a devious smile spread across her face. Tracer’s embarrassment only heightened at that.

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it!” Tracer yelled out, a bit too loudly, drawing in the attention of people from tables around them.

“I just. You always. Ugh. _Never mind_.” She stumbled, trying desperately to explain her choice of words but failing, and quite miserably she might add.

Widow folded her hands on the table in front of them.

“Of course, chérie.” She assured, batting her eyelashes, once again playing the faux innocent act, which Tracer was totally not buying into, at all.

“Stop that,” she snapped out, feeling her ire grow. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. If all she was going to get out of this was condescending comments, maybe she’d have been better off going to the rally as planned.

“Stop what?” She played again, staring at Tracer, a challenge in her eyes.

“This... whatever it is! Stop messing with my head,” she let out in a low hiss.

Widowmaker just chuckled.

“You are the one who sat down at my table, chérie. The choice was yours, I did nothing to encourage it.” She had a point there.

“Why'd you let me?” She was suspicious of her motives. Maybe this entire thing was a trap. Maybe she’d planned the whole thing out. Her mind raced with possibilities.

“I find your company to be... not entirely intolerable,” Widowmaker replied mildly, stirring the drink in front of her. Tracer let out a humorless snort.

“Really? Because normally you’re trying to kill me, love, so you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you.” Widowmaker’s eyes met hers, cooler and more serious than before.

“That is work. Right now, chérie, we are both off the clock, _c’est-à-dire_ , we do not need to kill each other _maintenant_ ,” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

That didn’t make much sense to Tracer though. Her work with Overwatch had everything to do with her moral compass, and had a lot to do with herself personally. The two identities were intertwined deeply, the line between them so blurred it felt impossible to separate it like that, so cut and dry.

“So your urge to turn me into a bloody stain on the tile is suddenly gone because... you’re on vacation?”

“ _Oui_.” She could feel her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Widowmaker stared back blankly, almost like she was bored.

“Why, exactly, is that?” Tracer watched as the other woman huffed and rolled her eyes, obviously thinking this entire conversation was nothing more than an annoyance.

“I am an assassin,” she explained, patronizingly slow, “the kill is my job. My art. But really, I am but a weapon to be wielded and used. Who and what I kill are not always personal convictions.” Tracer frowned.

“You kill people in cold blood. People who aren't your marks. I've seen you do it, and I've seen you enjoy it.” Widowmaker rolled her eyes and took a sip of her latte.

“And you do not kill people on a regular basis as well?” Tracer was absolutely outraged at the statement.

“That is not the–!” She started to argue, before Widowmaker cut her off.

“Do you ever stop to consider the lives of the people you take? Their reasons for being where there are, who they are?” Her gaze was piercing. Tracer wanted to scream at her, tell her that wasn't true, but she continued before she had the chance.

“We both kill in our line of work. It is what we do. What we are made to do.” She smirked. “I may take more enjoyment from it than you, with your foolish ideals of the _greater good_ ,” she said that last part with distaste, “but the fact remains the same.” Her expression was haughty, and Tracer wanted to smack her for it. “Who is innocent and who is guilty is decided only by one's own convictions.” Lena had enough of listening to her at this point.

“The difference is I don't want to murder people. You do. You love it. It's sick.” She said with disgust. Widowmaker only smiled sweetly in response.

“All those people, you felt nothing when you took their lives? Mondatta? The countless others you’ve killed?”

“I take satisfaction in a job well done, chérie.”

“You killed all those people and you didn’t even care!” She looked incredibly irritated now, looking around at their surroundings to make sure no one appeared to be listening to their conversation. It was apparently obvious that her patience was wearing thin, her expression seemed almost tired at this point.

“And you think that Talon would have spared Mondatta’s life had I not been the one to kill him?” she lifted her chin slightly as she continued, “Someone always wants someone else dead, chérie. If they want it enough, they will find someone willing to do it. Maybe they will do it themselves. Whether that someone is me or someone else, the outcome remains the same.” Tracer tried to protest before her voice fell silent. Widowmaker sounded like she’d thought about this before, long and hard, which just – it didn’t make any _sense,_ none of it did.

“I am the tool, not the killer in the way you see it to be. Not in the way you think to be true. What you see is the woman holding the gun. You do not see the puppeteer pulling the strings.”

Tracer gulped. She’d never heard Widowmaker say so much all in one go, that was really throwing her off; let alone the unfamiliar territory that she’d suddenly found herself in. She didn't think Widowmaker would ever admit to such a thing. It gave her a small bit of hope that there was more to her than what had been said.

Widowmaker, too, seemed surprised at her own words, eyes slightly wide and lips parted, before collecting her usual composure. She sneered, as if she was trying to gain back some semblance of control she felt she had lost. She stood abruptly from the table, throwing Tracer a look. The faux sweet smile came back soon after.

“It looks like that will be all for now, chérie.” Widowmaker said, turning, “ _J’ai d’autres chats à fouetter._ ” She moved away from the table and out of the cafe patio, walking towards a motorbike parked across the street. Tracer sat still in her seat and watched her go, noting when she threw back a glance before riding off into the city. Tracer wondered if she should follow after her but thought better of it. The conversation they’d had reassured her that, whatever she was up to now, it was none of Lena’s business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is my first attempt at these two and I've got a lot more ideas in store for them! I'm thinking some AU's, and more in this universe. Next part will be up soon!
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	2. Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracer and Widowmaker have a frank conversation. Tracer is stubborn, and Widowmaker doesn't know how to deal with everything that's happening.

Heart pounding and breathing heavily, Tracer woke with a start. She panted for a moment, putting a hand over her heart, feeling as her heart rate began to steadily slow down again as she woke from her dream. Her room was silent in the dark of her flat, a feeling of dread slowly started creeping up inside of her.

Flashes of her dream came back to her, full lips, teasing hands and a gentle, albeit cool, touch.

 _Fuck!_ Tracer thought as she flung herself backwards onto her bed, pulling the comforter up over her head. This was not good. So, so, so not good. She couldn’t be thinking about Widowmaker like _that_. That was just.. well she didn’t really even know what that would be. Just plain weird, she supposed as she tried to shake herself out of it. Yeah.. she thought chuckling, running a trembling hand through her hair. _Weird_. That was the word for it. A small part of her had the creeping suspicion that she’d been thinking about her like this for a while now, but was just too thick to realize it. How she’d looked in Paris.. Lena shoved those thoughts down fiercly. _She couldn’t be thinking like this_. It just... _hurt_. A throbbing headache formed at the effort. _It was going to be a long night,_ she thought tiredly, rubbing her temples to relieve some of the pressure.

A call form Winston thankfully interrupted her disturbing train of thought. A mission was exactly what she needed to take her mind off of things.

 

When she heard the familiar crack of thunder resonate through the battlefield, Tracer knew she was doomed.

“ _Tracer! Go for the sniper_!” a voice crackled through her comms channel. Panic gripped her heart like a vice, refusing to let go. She tried not to feel too much like she was about to attend her own funeral when she replied, resigned.

“Roger that.”

It seemed they were always going to meet on rooftops then, Tracer thought as she blinked her way towards the sniper. At this point in their fucked-up relationship, or _whatever_ you'd call it, she could recognize a perch the woman would make good use of. Her thoughts were in a jumble, she didn’t know what to think after their encounter in Paris, and then that _stupid_ dream. She shook her head, hiding behind a wall to gain some semblance of composure before making herself known to the other woman.

She had to get all of these... these feelings and thoughts gone. She wanted peace of mind again; when everything was simple, the bad guys were always bad and the good guys were right and true, not this unstable middle ground that she knew nothing about. If Tracer saw the horrible, murderous person that she knew Widowmaker could be, maybe she could quell these ridiculous thoughts once and for all.

She rounded the corner, dual blasters aimed and ready.

Widowmaker was laying down in her snipers nest, the moonlight shining down on her making it so that Tracer could see her features clearly. She looked almost unreal, Tracer thought as her eyes trailed over her body, eyes lingering on her face. The look of pure concentration there was captivating.

Gold eyes glanced in her direction and the rifle moved with it, the sound of a single shot rang out in the night air, a bullet just grazing her cheek. Tracer hissed in pain at the sensation. She put a hand up to her cheek and felt blood flowing freely from the wound. It wasn’t bad though. Tracer knew she’d aimed to miss.

“You’re not going soft on me now, are you, love? That’s just a scratch!” She grinned and took a step closer haughtily. “Show me what you can really do.”

Widowmaker’s gaze was more ruthless than she’d seen it in a long time and Tracer wondered, as she fired her own shots, if their Paris conversation had a similar lasting effect on the assassin. This time, the sniper’s bullet grazed her hand.

Tracer fired again, watched them skim past the side of her bodysuit as she dodged, avoiding the damage with poise and grace.

“I assure you, chérie, that is not all I can do to you,” she purred, her voice teasing and filled with its usual dose of venom. Despite that, the comment did nothing for Lena’s state of mind as she trailed her gaze along the curves of her long, lean body.

“You’re all talk, love.” She blinked up close, knocking them both back. She felt a fist connect with her cheek bone and saw stars as she stumbled backwards. A swift kick to her chest staggered her back further. She felt her back hit the wall behind her, chronal accelerator stuttering at the impact.

A cool hand closed around her throat. Widowmaker’s face was dangerously close to hers.

“You were saying, chérie?” She felt her air supply cut off and the assassin increasing the pressure of her hand, struggling vainly to catch a breath of air. Just as suddenly as it happened, the pressure was gone. Tracer slid down against the wall, gasping. She watched as booted feet took two hesitant steps backwards before trailing her eyes up to her opponent's face.

Looking down at Tracer, her expression seemed almost conflicted. Lena held her breath. She looked incredibly bemused by the situation, as if she had been told to solve an insanely difficult math problem without even knowing what the subject was, or where to start. Her face morphed into a scowl, and Lena watched as she ground her teeth together. Her expression went back to it’s normal, cruel poker face. But there were cracks in it this time.

Tracer blinked to the side, scrambling to her feet and voiding the fist that instead collided with the cement with a loud _Crack!_ If she’d felt any pain from the impact, she gave no sign of it. Widowmaker followed after her, relentless in her offense, the two of them trading blows back and forth, chests heaving. Suddenly Tracer felt furious. So positively mad she was sure she’d go crazy from the intensity. Who was this woman, to come into her life and fuck her up like this? Make her a bloody target? Seep into her every thought? It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want this, didn’t ask for it, and certainly _didn’t_ _need it_.

She landed a well timed kick that made a resounding thud on impact, and Tracer felt a sick sense of pleasure at the hiss Widowmaker let out in response. But Tracer knew she was a goner as soon it got down to hand to hand combat. She wasn’t nearly a match for the trained assassin. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try and give her a run for her money though.

Tracer felt her legs get swept out for under her in one smooth motion, her head hitting the ground with a sickening crack. She tasted blood as she felt another person’s body weight bearing down on her. Blindly she lashed out and was aware of her elbow connect with something, before her arms were effectively pinned down over her head.

She tried to open both her eyes fully, but one was swollen shut from a quick jab, and she could only see out of the other. Short, blunt nails dug into her wrists as they were gripped tightly.

Above her loomed Widowmaker, teeth bared in what looked like rage. Her hair had come out of it’s usual ponytail in their tussle, and it fanned around them like a curtain. Upon closer inspection with her good eye, Tracer could see a small cut and welt forming on her cheekbone. Considering how poor the woman’s blood circulation was, Lena felt her chest fill with a small bit of pride that a mark had shown up at all, even if it was petty. At least she’d gone out fighting.

They were both breathing heavily, and Tracer wondered what came next. Would the assassin kill her? She hadn’t yet, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to. Still, she felt no fear.

She watched as Widowmaker’s eyebrows lowered marginally, eyes narrowing. Tracer’s gaze flitted about her face, eyes tracing across her beautiful sharp features, prominent cheekbones, before settling on her lips. They were parted slighted from breathing heavily, and Tracer felt her own breath hitch. Her heart was beating so quickly, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Battered and bruised, she was still a sight to see. Her mouth betraying her, Tracer foolishly let out what she’d been thinking.

“You’re beautiful.” It was a barely a whisper, but their faces were so close she knew the other woman would hear. She watched as gold eyes went wide with surprise.

Widowmaker suddenly recoiled from her as if she’d been burned, reeling backwards and scrambling several feet away from her Lena tried to sit up, but her head started swimming and her vision blurred at the effort. She let out a series of coughs that wracked her whole body with pain.

The sniper was on her feet now, looking vaguely panicked, an expression Lena had never seen on her face before. She completely lacked any of her usual composure, both of them had been completely knocked off balance. Tracer felt bitter sense of satisfaction at the fact that she wasn’t the only one who felt fucked up by this... _thing_ , that had sprung up between them. She felt diseased. She didn’t try to stop Widowmaker as she made her quick escape, moving as if she had something the run from. _Me_ , Tracer thought, feeling empty. _She’s running from_ me.

There were so many things that she knew she were probably very bad for her. Widowmaker was one of them. But that never seemed to stop her from coming back for more, every single time. Now, she was paying for that fact.

Hissing as she moved her finger to press her comms button, she felt a surge of relief as familiar static filled her ears. She needed to get far away from this place, away from whatever that had been. She could barely breath. She let out a shaky breath and hoped that someone was listening.

“This is Tracer, requesting medical assistance.”

“ _Acknowledged._ ”

 

 

 

Keys rattled loudly in Lena’s hands as she fumbled for the right one to unlock her flat. She let out a triumphant noise as she finally spotted the right one. She put it up to the door to unlock it, only to have it push open at the nudge.

Readying a defensive stance just in case it was foul play, she slowly opened the door and peeked through. Nothing yet, but still, something felt very wrong. She took a couple tentative steps into the room.

“If I had come here with the intention of killing you, you would have made it very easy, chérie.” Lena could have swore in that moment, she felt her soul leave her body. Unfazed by Lena’s momentary brush with death, Widowmaker continued, “but seeing as I am here to talk, that point is irrelevant.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” she shouted, jumping back at the sight of Widowmaker leaning casually against the frame of her front door. Which she was now closing. Lena felt a surge of pure panic go through her system. _Widowmaker_ was in her bloody flat for crying out loud, standing there as if it was perfectly normal to break into your enemy’s home for a quick chat.

She was in casual clothes again, a deep purple blouse, along with form fitting black leggings which Tracer thought meant that she’d come here of her own volition. Not under direct order from Talon, or they’d have made her wear that ridiculous getup. Though she definitely wasn’t dropping her guard.

Widowmaker cleared her throat, making Tracer realize that she’d just been silently checking her out for the past few minutes. Feeling her cheeks heat, she pretended not to notice the self satisfied smirk on the assassin’s face.

“I didn’t think breaking and entering was really your style. If I’d known you were coming I’d have brought out my doilies,” Lena drawled, sending the woman a pointed look. She felt surprisingly calm for someone who’d just walked in to her home to find an intruder, but since that intruder was, well... she didn’t know what to classify her as anymore.

“You needn’t trouble yourself _à cause de moi_ ,” she took a few leisurely steps forward, heading towards the center of the room. She glanced over her should at Tracer as is to say ‘ _What are you standing around for?’_ which she felt affronted by. This was her apartment! Which Widowmaker had _broken into_. This woman was insufferable.

“What do you want?” she asked irritably, hands clenching into fists at her side. Widowmaker rolled her eyes as if it were obvious.

“I believe I said was here to talk, non?” She sat down, completely uninvited, into one of the seats beside Lena’s couch. She gestured to one of the seats, clearly enjoying every second of Tracer’s discomfort and anger.

She grit her teeth together, jaw clenching painfully. Through her teeth, she muttered “I’ll stand, thanks,” crossing her arms over her chest defensively. The assassin looked at her with a dubious expression, before letting out a huff and rolling her eyes.

“Very well,” she conceded, crossing her legs.

“Talk then, if that’s what you came here to do.” She seemed to eye Lena approvingly for a moment, taking note of something before her graze hardened considerably.

“I think we both know what needs to be said, chérie. There is no need to be as tense as you are.” Lena scowled, but didn’t say anything.

“We both know this needs to stop.” Her voice was confident, but there was an uncertainty in her eyes that gave away her wariness of the subject. Tracer felt her heart stutter at the admission, Widowmaker confirming what she already knew to be true. That there was something between them, something electric. Something dangerous. If she didn’t think it was dangerous, then she wouldn’t be here. She tried to play dumb though.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Widowmaker chuckled darkly at that.

“You are many things, chérie, but a good liar you are not,” she stood up from her seat then, moving to stand directly in front of Tracer. Until now, she hadn’t really realized just how much taller the other woman was. The difference was... significant. Widowmaker’s mouth was set in a grim line, eyes determined.

“I will not allow it to continue. I cannot.” Tracer scoffed.

“So you’re here to tell me to bugger off? That’s easier said than done, what considering our line of work.”

“Which is why I am here to talk to you now,” Widowmaker sighed, exasperated. Tracer was starting to get really ticked off at this point. This whole concept was ridiculous.

“Look here, _Widowmaker_ , you _broke into_ my house to talk to me about what? Feelings? Like you have any?” Her words were venomous and angry. Widowmaker watched her with a blank expression, giving nothing away.

“How can you possibly say anything is going on when you feel _nothing!_ ” Lena knew it wasn't true, she knew it. Widowmaker seemed to bring out this side of her though, the side that pushed back hard and took no bullshit. It was the only way she'd get anywhere with her, the only real way she'd get any reaction other than derision.

Something in Widowmaker seemed to snap at this, because suddenly she was right in Lena’s face, eye’s cold and teeth bared.

“Is that what you think? That I do not have the capacity to feel? That I am an empty vessel? A monster?” Her face twisted into a cruel expression. She took a step forward, forced Tracer back.

“Is that what they tell you in your precious Overwatch? No remorse, no mercy?” Gold eyes searched hazel for a moment. Widowmaker let out a short laugh.

“I feel in a way that you do not and could not understand, chérie.” Her voice was dangerously calm as she took another step forward. Tracer was losing her footing and her ground as Widowmaker advanced.

“Did they tell you that Amélie Lacroix ceased to exist?” She’d stop moving forward now holding Lena’s gaze with an eerie calm. She was at a loss for words. This was not at all what she'd expected.

“The truth is far more complicated than those _imb_ _é_ _ciles_ allow themselves to believe. If that were the truth, we would not be having this conversation. You would have been dead long before now, _Lena._ ” Rage sparked at the use of her real name, Tracer refused to back down.

“Then why do you do it? The things you do, everything that you are now is _not_ who Amélie was, I didn’t even know her but I know the much. How do you live with the things you’ve done?” The air was electric between them now, the silence in the room stifling as they glared daggers at one another. She was daring her to admit to more. Tracer wanted to understand.

“The path I was forced onto is one where there is no turning back. Even if I could desire to, what would that mean for me?” Tracer had never thought about it that way before. She thought that Overwatch might take her back, but given her extensive history of violence, brutality and background with Talon – not to mention the fact that she could still be a sleeper agent – made the chances slim to none.

“If you had done what I was made to, would you mute the feelings that followed if given the chance?” Tracer thought about it for a moment, before realizing there was only one true answer to a question like that.

“I honestly don’t know.” her tone was sincere, and she held Widowmaker’s gaze as it searched her own. Tracer had no idea why Widowmaker had told her all of this. From the looks of it, Widowmaker didn't either. The assassin took a step back and look to move towards the door.

“This was a mistake,” she muttered, almost to herself, “I should not have come.” Tracer couldn’t exactly argue, but was surprised to find herself doing exactly that.

“So you’re just going to leave then?” Gold eyes flitted back to her own with surprise, before an amused smirk formed on her lips.

“I was under the impression that my company was not welcome.”

“Well, you assumed wrong,” she shot back, and _fuck_ , what was she even saying? Didn’t she want her gone?

Widowmaker raised her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Tracer to continue.

“You came here, you started this, so you’d better damn well finish it.” her mouth was practically moving all on it’s own now, her brain had lost all control it seemed.

“And what, exactly, is there left to finish?” She replied coolly, and Lena felt hot all over for a minute as she tried to gather her thoughts. It just wasn’t happening. She didn’t know what to say to this woman, this complicated mess of person in front of her. Everything was just too much all of a sudden

“You just keep fucking with my head, and then up and leaving without giving a damn. What do you even _want from me_?” her voice sounded foreign to her own ears at this point, her heart was racing and she felt worse than she had in a long time. Widowmaker just looked at her with an odd expression. Lena figured she was going to to leave then, so she sighed and closed her eyes.

Before she could really understand what was happening, a pair of cool soft lip press into hers with desperation. The other woman’s hands grabbed at her roughly, hands tangling in her windswept hair as she pulled her face even closer.

It was like a dam broke and let loose. She felt herself reacting as if she was watching another person, watching someone else grab at Widowmaker’s hips and pulling them against her own. Someone else was trailing her hands down that slim waist, kissing the Talon agent with no intention of stopping. It couldn’t be her. She couldn’t be doing this. It was like something in her brain had snapped, she felt possessed as she moved to deepen the kiss.

But this was her, she was doing all of those things without even hesitating, and _god, it felt good_. She didn’t want it to stop.

Lena barely registered it as her legs hit cushions, only thinking enough to pull Widowmaker down on top of her by grabbing a fist full of that pretty blouse and dragging them both down onto the couch.

She let out a low groan as Widowmaker’s hips settled between her own. Her fingers went into her hair, pulling it out of it's ponytail and running her fingers through it. The kiss broke, Lena felt her heart racing as she tried to catch her breath, taking in the sight above her. The assassin seemed almost dazed, her gaze on Lena’s lips, her breathing labored. Her cheeks were rosier than Lena had ever seen them. Feeling satisfied by that thought, she scratched her nails down the other woman’s back, watch her eyes flutter shut and feeling her back arch into her at the sensation. Both women let out a gasp.

Her lips were warming now, not nearly as chilling as they were before when Lena reconnected their lips.

Widowmaker was not a gentle person by any means. Her teeth tugged at Tracer’s lips hard; her hands grabbing and leaving scratch marks wherever they went.

Her own hands trailed lightly across the other woman’s waist, thumbs tracing her hip bones. She felt Widowmaker freeze above her as her fingers toyed with the waistband of her trousers. The assassin pulled back abruptly, eyes sharp as she stared at Lena. Hands now limp at her sides, Lena squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the searching look. The weight above her disappeared, and she felt a surprising pang of disappointment that she immediately smothered. She knew this shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

She opened her eyes to Widowmaker redoing the buttons on her shirt, which, admittedly, Tracer hadn’t even realized she’d opened. When she was done she glanced briefly in Lena’s direction, before walking out the door without a word. She sat there for a moment, gazing into nothing and wondering when things had gotten quite this messed up and complicated between them.

 

 

 

“It was a lapse in judgment. I refuse to let it happened again.” Widowmaker’s jaw was clenched tightly, her entire stance daring Tracer to say otherwise. Tracer rolled her eyes and let out a snort.

“Right yeah, of course it was. We wouldn’t want those pesky feelings of yours to ruin the whole cold blooded killer image you’re going for,” Tracer surprised even herself at the bitterness in her tone. “It might give people the wrong impression.”

Widowmaker’s stern facade twitched, livid for a moment, before letting out a long sigh.

Tracking her down had been less challenging than she'd originally thought. Lena had her own sources, what few of them were left at this point. Considering how recognizable the woman was, she was surprised Overwatch hadn’t tracked down one of her usual haunts sooner. But with the war going on, and the world’s eyes on their every move she knew there were bigger concerns than wasting resources on hunting down one woman, despite how deadly said woman might be. One of her current posts was an unassuming little place in the outskirts of Paris. It hadn’t taken Lena long to get to it, and considering that Widowmaker had already broken into her apartment she figured it was about time she returned the favor. Naturally the assassin knew it would be her the moment she came home to find her door unlocked.

“Coming here was foolish, even for you.” Her voice wasn’t angry, just incredibly tired. There was a slight tension in the assassin’s features; her lips were pursed and a crease between her eyebrows. It was then Tracer realized exactly how crazy she must look. She let out a huff, folding her arms.

“I know. But I had to talk to you. This seemed like the easiest way to do it.”

Widowmaker eyed her skeptically from the chair opposite her own. They were in the kitchen. The room was tiny but had enough space for a small table and two chairs, which is exactly where Tracer found herself currently. The experience was more than a little surreal.

“Well, then? Talk.” She stared at Lena expectantly. The entire speech she’d been mentally going over since she’d decided to come on this idiot trip was completely forgotten.

“I... uh,” she stuttered. She felt her legs start to shake from nervousness. Widowmaker seemed less than impressed.

“I came here to say that... um, you shouldn’t have left the way you... uhh... did. And that we need to... talk about what happened.” She sounded totally pathetic. The assassin crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“What is there to talk about?” Widowmaker said frostily. “I have told you all you needed to know. It was a mistake. It will not happen again.” Tracer open her mouth to reply but was cut off.

“If that is all there was, then I believe it would be best if you left.” Lena thought that maybe she’d have preferred it if Widowmaker threw her out. Because she sure as hell wasn’t leaving after that explanation.

“I’m not finished yet. You in a rush to get me to leave?”

“Is it that obvious?” She replied sarcastically. Tracer ground her teeth and scowled.

“Widowmaker, this is serious. You broke into my apartment, you kissed me, and then you left without a word. What the hell am I supposed to do with that information?” She was frustrated at this point. Why did Widowmaker have to go and make everything so difficult?

“Do with it what you will, chérie.” Tracer just glared at her.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say about this? _You_ are the one who kissed _me_ , and you’ve got nothing to say for it.” Widowmaker simply looked at her with an expression of boredom, as if to say ‘ _I just said that, idiot’_ and didn’t even bother with a reply. Trying to find some sort of common ground between them, Tracer tried a different tactic. She took a deep breath.

“Alright then. Why did you do it?” She was making an attempt at sounding civil; it wasn’t as convincing as she intended, but it would have to do. Widowmaker appeared to consider the question for a moment.

“Why does that matter to you?” She replied. Tracer wasn’t sure where exactly she was going with this. Of course it mattered. This whole situation was one big mess. Tracer listened intently as the sniper continued.

“Even if I knew and even if I told you why, what would that change? Would it accomplish anything?” Lena just stared at her in response, totally thrown for a loop. This was getting way too complicated for her. She felt a head ache coming on, and she rubbed at her temples before letting out a sigh.

“Look, I also think that this fucked-up thing between us has to stop, _okay_?” Lena said tiredly. “I think knowing why you kissed me in the first place is a great way to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Tracer felt anxious at this point. This whole ordeal was getting out of hand. She thought she’d come here, tell Widowmaker to stop playing her little game or whatever she was doing and that would be all. She didn't think she'd agree right away. Tracer didn’t expect to care about what she had to say.

“I did it because I wanted to.” Her response was clipped. There was a hard look in her eyes. “It was regrettably impulsive.”

“Why did you want to?” Silence. Widowmaker gave no indication that she even heard the question, and most definitely was not planning on answering it. Tracer’s jaw clenched.

“Why are you making this so difficult? We both agree this has to stop, right?” her voice was getting louder the more frustrated she got. Widowmaker seemed to be having the same issue, but she did a better job of hiding it than Tracer.

“As if this ridiculous game of twenty questions will accomplish that? No, I am not so foolish to believe such a thing.” She shot back. Tracer let out an angry laugh.

“I don’t see you coming up with something better, love.” Widowmaker’s expression became seething.

“I have already told you that I will not let it happen again. Yet you insist that this is not enough. If that is the case, then I do not know what else you wish to hear from me.” Widowmaker said acerbically. Tracer was ready to start shouting at this point.

“Sorry that I don’t take you at your word! You’ve only tried to kill me dozens of times, it’s not like I’d have no reason to believe you might be up to something!” She was practically yelling now, seconds away from lunging at the infuriating woman sitting in front of her.

“Ah yes, this entire thing was just an elaborate trap. My ultimate plan to seduce and murder you.” She stood up and walked forward so that she was leaning over Tracer with a sneer. “You are so _clever_ to have caught on, what will I do with myself now?” Every word was acidic, and Tracer felt more angry than she could ever recall being before.

“ _Fuck you_. Just _fuck you_.” She stood up fast, almost knocking her head into Widowmaker’s jaw in the process. “And _fuck this!_ I don’t know why I came here. You are impossible! I don’t know what I expected.” Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed. Their faces were just mere centimeters away from each other.

“Did I make you mad, chérie?” she sneered. “Did I ruin whatever picture you’d foolishly come up with in your silly little head as to how this would go?”

“Shut. Up.” Tracer hissed. Widowmaker refused to back down.

“No. Who did you think you were dealing with?” She let out a hollow laugh. “You have already said it. ‘I feel nothing.’ What would you expect, from a monster like me? Did _I_ make _you_ feel something? Is that why you are here?”

“ _Shut up!”_ Tracer shouted, right in her face, before grabbing her by the front of her shirt and pressing their mouths together roughly. Widowmaker responded immediately, gripping Lena’s hips tightly and lifting her up onto the table. Their kiss was just as rough as it was intense. Lena wrapped her legs around Widowmaker’s waist, pulling her close, digging her fingernails into the skin of her back hard enough to break the skin. Widowmaker’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, flinching as she drew blood. Cold fingers grabbed her hips, pulling them closer to Widowmaker’s. Lena moved her arms up and around the nape of her neck. Their bodies pressed closely together as she deepened the kiss.

Tracer pulled back for a moment, panting. Widowmaker’s eyes were considerably darker now, staring at Lena with desire. The taller woman leaned in again, pressing into Lena with urgency, tugging at her tank top and pulling it over her head and throwing it somewhere on the floor. She gasped at the feeling of lips trailing a burning hot path from her pulse down to the base of her neck, leaving bite marks as they went.

Widowmaker undid Tracer’s sports bra in one fluid motion, slipping it off her shoulders and moving her lips down to her exposed chest. Goosebumps rose on her skin as those chilling hands trailed across her abdomen, before sliding down to grab her ass. Lena let out a loud moan as Widowmaker kissed her chest and her breasts, wrapping her legs more tightly around her waist. The chronal accelerator always made these things awkward, made everything harder to access, but if Widowmaker thought so she paid no mind to it.

Lena let out a gasp as the assassin lifted her off the table, showing no sign of strain at her weight as she reconnected their lips. Tracer melted into the kiss. She wanted, no, _needed_ so much more.

“Bedroom.” She gasped, eyes falling shut at the feeling of Widowmaker kissing her jaw. The taller woman nodded in response.

Widowmaker walked them through the open door to her bedroom and slammed it shut behind them.

Her back hit the mattress, Widowmaker settling in between her hips, hovering over her for a moment. They both paused, considering the situation they were in. Tracer knew this was a horrible idea just waiting to go wrong. But at this point she didn’t really think it would end well either way. So really, she was going to take this for what it was and enjoy what she could. They both came to a silent understanding then, Widowmaker starting at her with something akin to approval. Her stare was too much, Tracer squirmed beneath it. She surged forward again, only to have her movement halted. Widowmaker chuckled.

“Patience, chérie.” She smiled mischievously as she sat back on her knees for a moment. Lena felt her mouth run dry as Widowmaker eased out of her shirt before settling down on top of her once more. A slender, cool hand slid down her stomach, stopping just short of the hem of her pants. Her back arched upwards off the bed at the touch. Widowmaker smirked. Lena let out a breathy laugh, giving the woman above her a crooked smile.

“Well, love?” she teased, hooking her legs around Widowmaker’s hips and grinding slightly again them. She watched as her eyes shut tightly at the sensation, letting out a shaky breath. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Widowmaker’s eyes snapped open, glaring at Lena. She responded to Lena’s movement with her own, moving her hips in a steady motion. Tracer’s hands clutched at her back as she let out a loud gasp, desperate to bring her closer.

“Are you sure you can keep up, chérie?” she whispered. Lena laughed, moving her face closer to the french woman's and scratching her nails down her back. This was probably the worst idea she’d ever had. It was completely reckless, not to mention stupid and incredibly morally questionable. She knew that. But that didn’t mean it was going to stop her. She grazed her lips against Widowmaker’s ear, pressing into her.

“Try me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So! That was fun to write, I love angry Tracer so much. This took a while to get right. Let me know what you guys think of it! If you like it, or just want to chat, or if you have a prompt or request, message me on tumblr! http://lady-hircine.tumblr.com/


	3. Act 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Widowmaker are actually hopeless.

When Lena went to get a glass of water, the sight that greeted her was certainly not what she expected to see in the living area of her flat at 2 a.m. She let out a gasp of surprise before her fight or flight instincts kicked in.

Dressed in full combat gear, Widowmaker was leaning heavily against the windowsill. Tracer’s first thought was that she was here to kill her. They’d had sex after all, and she didn’t expect that fact to sit well with the assassin. But something else was clearly very wrong. Her stance was unnatural, her shoulder dangled awkwardly. She could hear her shallow breathing from across the room. Considering that she was normally as silent as a corpse, that was a real cause for concern.

“What happened?” Tracer said softly. Widowmaker turned sharply at the noise and her concern doubled. The fact that she hadn’t heard her enter the room was not a good sign.

“ _Merde_. I thought perhaps you might be asleep,” she replied, sounding exhausted. Tracer let out a humorless chuckle.

“One would think so, yes.” The assassin stared at her for a moment, clearly waiting for her to elaborate. As if Tracer was the one with a real problem right now. She felt herself deflate as she relented under her gaze.

“Nightmares.” she murmured solemnly. Widowmaker seemed satisfied with the response, almost... sympathetic, even. Tracer wondered if Widowmaker was as unaffected in dreams as she was in real life, whether the things she did during daylight haunted her in slumber. She brushed the thought aside as she moved towards the woman. She could think about that later. When she reached her, Widowmaker’s whole body tensed up. Tracer rolled her eyes.

“I’m trying to help, genius.” She said dryly, making Widowmaker scowl. Ignoring her, Tracer moved closer and tried to get a better assessment of the damage. Her shoulder was definitely dislocated, by the way it hung from her body, and there was a nasty gash running up the length of her arm and shoulder. Another one stretched across her stomach, blood still trickling from it slowly. She imagined that had Widowmaker’s circulation been better, she would have been in a much less stable state. Fortunately for both of them, she still seemed to be able to stand upright without help, so Lena assumed that her legs were alright.

“Come on,” she said, “the good ol’ doctor never lets us go home without some pretty intense medical supplies. Just as a precaution.” She grabbed the rifle from Widowmaker’s grasp, which she let go of surprisingly easily and laid it down on the floor beside the wall. Next she grabbed that creepy-looking visor and put it beside it. Widowmaker stared at her for a minute. Tracer sighed impatiently.

“What is it?” The sniper was looking everywhere but at her, pointedly avoiding making eye contact.

“I do not understand.” Tracer stared at her, waiting for the rest. She seemed to fumble with her words for a moment, which was very unlike her.

“Why are you helping me?” Widowmaker sounded genuinely baffled by the idea, which was completely ridiculous to Tracer at this point. After all that had been said and done at this point, how could she not want to help? She shrugged.

“Because I want to. It’s as simple as that.” She still looked weary, but seemed to take her at her word for now. Tracer led her further into the apartment and brought her into the bedroom. As Tracer went into the bathroom to grab the kit, she noticed Widowmaker hover awkwardly by the door for a moment. It wasn’t long, but it was enough to tell Tracer that she was also still having thoughts about their last meeting. She called out to her over her shoulder.

“Just sit down on the bed, I’ll be out to patch you up in a minute!” She went back to the task in front of her, swearing quietly to herself as she looked at the _ridiculous_ amount of stuff in the first aid kit Angela had given her. She didn’t know where to start, so she just decided bringing out the whole thing would be best.

Widowmaker was sitting on the very edge of her bed, looking extremely uncomfortable with the situation. Well, at least that made two of them.

“That shoulder looks like it’s out of its socket.” She said, ignoring the awkwardness in the air. “I’m gonna set that back in place before dealing with the rest, alright?” Widowmaker nodded slightly, closing her eyes and taking a breath as Tracer came around to the side of the bed she was on.

“Lay back,” Lena instructed, waiting until she had settled comfortably before stepping up and gripping her forearm firmly. She put her free hand on Widowmaker’s hip, and tugged downwards on the dislocated arm. Hearing a faint pop as the joint slipped back into place, Tracer watched as the taller woman let out the breath she’d been holding. She looked relieved, and Tracer gave her a reassuring glance.

“I’m going to get the nano-biotics ready now. Don’t move that arm.” She turned to the kit and brought out disinfectant, some gauze, and a small syringe kit filled with the legendary Angela Ziegler’s breakthrough medical nano-tech. She applied the disinfectant with the gauze, gently wiping away from the gash on her shoulder. A somewhat comfortable silence fell over the room as she worked. Tracer finished off with two doses of the nano-tech, thankfully remembering Angela’s instructions as to how the stuff worked, making one injection deep into the tissue of the shoulder so that any damage done when it was dislocated would be taken care of, before administering a smaller dose near the laceration. She prepared the bandage, immobilized the shoulder in a makeshift sling, then set to work on the cut on her stomach. Breaking the silence between them, Tracer whispered a single question.

“Why did you come here?” Widowmaker’s eyes found hers in the dim lighting of the bedroom. They were filled with uncertainty.

“I thought here would be safe to regroup. I had no intention of waking you.” Tracer nodded at that, looking away to continue her work on the wound.

“Can I ask what happened?” Her voice was quiet as she asked, avoiding Widowmaker’s stare as she fixed her eyes on the wound in front of her.

“I would prefer it if you did not.” Lena tried not to let her disappointment show.

“I guess that’s fair.” She administered a bit of a stronger dosage than what she’d used on the laceration on her shoulder before bandaging it too.

“Any other injuries that I don’t know about?” She tried for a smile, but it probably looked a lot more like a grimace. This was all very strange. She felt as though they should be yelling at each other, or arguing. This felt weirdly... intimate, somehow. It was off-putting.

Widowmaker made a poor attempt at rising before failing miserably, laying back with a wince. Tracer felt an unexpected pang of sympathy at the action and gently helped the sniper sit up.

“Thank you,” Widowmaker said stiffly, eyes staring straight ahead as she spoke. This was clearly a first for the woman. Despite herself, Tracer grinned.

“What was that, love? I’m not sure I heard you quite right.”

Widowmaker scoffed, clearly not buying it. “You know very well what I said.” She replied tersely, still refusing to look at Lena who couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin from her face even if she tried. Which she was definitely not going to do; this was a golden opportunity.

“Oh, I know, I just couldn’t believe my ears. I wanted to hear you say it again to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating from sleep deprivation or something.” She laughed, and it was a genuine sound.

“Are you finished?” Widowmaker sighed, finally turning to face her. Tracer pretended to think about it for a minute.

“Maybe.” She conceded. Her grin widened slightly when she took note of the barely-there smile on the assassin’s face. A warm feeling blossomed in her chest, spreading throughout the rest of her body. Widowmaker’s eyes had an unusual mix of annoyance and fondness in them that Tracer hadn’t noticed until now. The sight made her breath hitch in her throat and her heart stutter slightly. She tried to pretend she wasn’t affected.

“You know, you’re not always so bad. You’d almost be nice if you’d let yourself thaw out a bit more.” She giggled at the sour look Widowmaker gave her.

“‘Thaw out?’” She said, sniffing with disdain. Tracer found herself giggling even more.

“Yeah, you heard me. You’re always so cold. I know that you feel more than you let on – would it kill you to loosen up a bit?” Widowmaker looked at her like she’d grown a second head, her expression a mixture of over-exaggerated horror and disbelief.

“But that would ruin my, ah yes, how did you say it... ‘the whole cold blooded killer image I’m going for.’ And we most certainly wouldn’t want that.” Tracer’s jaw dropped in surprise, not believing that Widowmaker could have remembered that whole exchange. This time it was Widowmaker’s turn to laugh at her expense.

“Hey!” Tracer cried out indignantly. “I just spent a good hour patching your sorry ass up! Show me some respect!” She seemed to laugh even harder at that, and Tracer felt herself chuckle slightly too, even if her cheeks were burning from embarrassment. The laughter died down, and Tracer was feeling incredibly comfortable. She stared at the older woman, thinking to herself how gorgeous she was. She quickly looked down at the comforter before Widowmaker realized that she was looking. Widowmaker's eyelids started to droop, clearly she was fighting to stay awake. Right, she probably should have mentioned some of the side effects of the treatment.

“The meds I gave you should tucker you out, so it’d be best if you crashed here.” Lena's tone was casual, but her palms started to sweat at the notion. Widowmaker would be in the same building with her as she slept. Totally vulnerable. Not that she really thought the sniper would do anything after this exchange, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling apprehensive about the idea. She’d have to be stupid not to.

“You can take my bed. I’d hate for all my hard work to go to waste because I made you sleep on the sofa,” she quipped with a smirk and a wink.

“That will not be necessary,” Widowmaker tried to protest, but Tracer could hear the sleepiness in her tone and refused to give in.

“I don’t know what happened tonight, and I don’t expect you to tell me, but I do know you were in a bad way when you came here. You aren’t leaving yet.” Her tone was stern, but she barley managed to suppress a laugh at the sniper’s petulant expression.  
“Very well.” There was an awkward pause. Tracer stood up fast, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck.

“Right then. I should get some rest too, I didn’t get much before you showed up. So.. Goodnight.” She thought for a moment, hoping there was nothing else she was forgetting. Widowmaker’s eyes were practically closing now, and Tracer knew it would be a good idea if they both just slept.

“I’ll be on the couch if you need me for anything,” she muttered as she walked out of the room, feeling the assassin’s eyes on her the until she shut the door behind herself.

She walked out to the couch, dragging her feet as she went. Her limbs felt incredibly heavy, and there was a pressure on her lungs and heart that troubled her. She went to the window, which was still wide open from Widowmaker’s entrance, and shut it quietly. On the ground near the sill was her Widow’s Kiss and her visor. Tracer had almost forgotten she’d put them there. Part of her was still convinced this was all some weird dream.

Seeing as Widowmaker had starred in more and more of her dreams as of late, it was getting almost hard to tell the difference between the two. No matter what Tracer did, where she was or what was going on at the time, Widowmaker was always on her mind. It was getting slightly disturbing. She shouldn’t be thinking this frequently about her. That just wasn’t normal, and was also probably very unhealthy. She sat down heavily on the couch, putting her face in her hands and letting out a sigh.

Lena glanced at the bedroom door, hands fidgeting. She forced herself to look away and laid down on the couch, pulling the blanket off the back of it over herself. It took a while, her mind was racing with the events of the night, but exhaustion won out and she passed out. When she woke up in the morning, she groaned at the crick in her back.

Her couch was definitely not made for sleeping, but she managed to get a few decent hours out of the night. She felt several things in her body let out disturbing cracks and pops as she stretched out, trying her best to wake up fully.

“Widowmaker? Are you awake yet?” She called out, finally getting up off of the couch. She got no response from the bedroom. Tracer looked towards the wall where Widowmaker’s rifle and visor had been previously. They were no where to be seen. Ignoring the feeling building in her chest as she tried to think up reasons for why that might be, she walked over to the bedroom door and peeked in.

Lena tried to pretend she couldn’t feel her heart constrict painfully in her chest as she was greeted with an empty room.

 

 

 

“You could have said goodbye, you know.” She only felt a tiny bit of satisfaction as the assassin jumped. Actually sneaking up on her was a rare feat. The satisfaction, however, was combated by the hurt that radiated through her whole body. She knew that she shouldn’t be feeling it, but she couldn’t help it. They’d had some sort of moment. Something was there, and she knew Widowmaker felt it too. There was more to this whole ordeal than just sex, just base attraction. It was completely and utterly stupid to be thinking that way, but they’d taken it this far and she couldn’t stop now.

Lena had tracked her down to the same cafe they’d met at before in Paris. Well, tracked down was a generous statement. More specifically, she’d found out that Widowmaker was actually a regular there and waited a couple of days in the hopes that she’d show. And as luck would have it, here they were.

Widowmaker’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing when she caught sight of Tracer standing behind her. She sat down in the seat opposite Widowmaker, expecting the woman to protest. Surprisingly, she said nothing.

“I did not wish to wake you,” she said, monotone. She shifted in her seat as she said the words, eyes refusing to meet Tracer’s. It was a poor attempt at an excuse and they both knew it.

“I wouldn’t have minded.” Tracer said, hands fidgeting. Giving her a brief once over, she noted that her arm seemed to be back in working order. “I hope everything healed up alright.” She continued, a tremor in her voice. The strained expression on Widowmaker’s face softened and she sighed.

“There were no complications. Your work was acceptable.” She sounded more than a little uncomfortable and also a little bit exasperated at the question, clearly not wanting to discuss the subject further. Tracer tried not to let that sting too much.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She was staring at the table rather than at Widowmaker.

“And why would you need any reassurance?” Widowmaker let out in a low hiss, forcing Tracer to look at her. Her eyes had narrowed into slits, they were filled with ice. Tracer was taken aback. That was the point of treating someone, right? To make sure that they were okay? Did she not get the memo?

“Because you came into my apartment half dead with no explanation other than “ _I was injured_ ”?” Tracer did her best impression of a French accent, which was admittedly terrible. Widowmaker's expression darkened.

“I did not ask for your help. You offered it and I took it,” Widowmaker was gripping her spoon so tightly it looked like it was starting to bend.

“Willingly, I might add! You didn't protest. Of course I wanted to know if you were alright.” Tracer said incredulously. Honestly, this woman was ridiculous.

“Well, here I am. I have returned to full functionality.” She said the words with a finality, as if this were the end of their discussion. It most definitely was not.

“I can see that.” Tracer shot. So it was always going to be like that then. Tracer had backed her into a corner though, she knew that. Widowmaker didn't know what to do with the position they'd unknowingly put themselves into, so naturally she was going to fight it. It's what she always did; every time Tracer got close, she was shoved back violently. Both figuratively and not. At this point she'd had enough. Everything that had happened between them at this point couldn't be ignored.

“Just admit it already, what happened got your knickers in a twist and you left! You were afraid!” Tracer yelled out. That comment had definitely hit it's mark, like she knew it would. If there was anyone she knew how to rile up the most, it was Widowmaker. She looked positively furious.

“I do not fear _anything_. Least of all foolish girls who do not know when to _quit_.” The older woman forced the words through clenched teeth, restraining herself. Lena knew they were getting somewhere now.

“Why can't you just admit that you want whatever is going on between us?” Tracer demanded, leaning forward.

“You are quick to assume that I want this, chérie.” Widowmaker said icily, reverting to that cold facade she used to wear so often. The intention was to hurt her, to drive her off and make it so that her willpower would weaken and she’d give in, admit defeat. Tracer could see right through her, see the fear she was trying to hide, and she wasn’t going to let her cold front deter her. There was hesitation in her actions, a crumbling resolve. She’d just have to keep chipping away at it.

“Then tell me right now that you don’t want this.” Lena said. “Tell me that and you’ll never have to hear about this again.” She was dead serious. Widowmaker’s eyes widened at her tone, surprised at the ultimatum. She stayed silent.

“Well, love? Come on, tell me.” She could see Widowmaker’s jaw clenching and unclenching from across the table; she was too proud to admit that Tracer was right about this. She shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly.

“This cannot... I _can’t_...” Widowmaker trailed off, putting her head in her hands. “How can you not see that this is impossible?” She snarled, head snapping back up, eyes darting every which way, looking for an escape. Tracer wasn't going to give her one.

“What makes you think it’s impossible?” She wasn’t going to give in. Widowmaker was pushing herself to the limit in terms of patience; her right eye twitched almost imperceptibly. She looked about ready to start shouting.

“Think about things rationally for once!” Widowmaker seethed.

“I’ve never been more rational in my life!” That wasn’t entirely true, but she’d given this a lot of thought. It kept her awake at night and plagued her mind constantly. There was nothing else she thought about more than this infuriating woman. Widowmaker was completely oblivious to that fact though.

“Well then perhaps you should listen to me instead when I say that this will not work! Why must you insist on this when it is hopeless?”

“Because I care about you, you stupid coldhearted –!” Tracer froze and slapped her hands over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that; hadn’t meant to admit to a weakness that she really didn’t understand yet, and definitely hadn’t come to terms with. But it was the truth. As soon as she said it, she knew it was true.

It was only then she remembered that they were not alone, that they were in the middle of a cafe in Paris and shouting something like that was probably not the smartest thing she could have done. Several customers were staring at them, some blatantly and others poorly trying to pretend that they weren’t.

Widowmaker looked like she’d been shot, she’d gone so pale. Tracer had never seen her so shocked. Her heart beat was too quick. She felt like she was choking as the other woman stood up from her seat and moved back, stumbling, like she couldn’t get away from Tracer fast enough. Lena couldn’t breath. She should say something. Anything. But no words would form, her mouth stayed firmly shut as Widowmaker continued to move back, as if taking her eyes of Tracer was a dangerous idea. When she got far enough, she turned and ran, disappearing into the crowded streets. Lena could only watch, completely numb and trying desperately not to cry.

 

 

 

 _Tap Tap!_ Tracer groaned, rolling over and shoving her pillow over her head and she tried to drown out the noise. She didn’t know what it was and she didn’t care. It was way to early in the morning for this.

 _Tap Tap Tap!_ She sighed in frustration, removing the pillow from her head and looking around the room blearily for the source of the noise so she could shut it up. It sounded like it was coming from the window. Yawning as she sat up, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and went to leave the bed. Finallytaking a good look out the window, she just about jumped a meter in the air.

Widowmaker smirked at her from behind the glass, amused by her antics. Tracer got up and walked over, not believing what she was seeing. She was certain that she'd never see her like this again after today. After what she said. She had absolutely no idea what this meant.

Widowmaker gestured towards the glass between them with impatience, making Tracer realize she probably looked like a total moron, just standing here gawking at her. _Oh shit_. Hurriedly she opened the window and the assassin climbed in. She noted the lack of combat gear, wondered how Widowmaker had even gotten up this far without it, then figured she was most likely better off not knowing.

“Well, this is unexpected.” Tracer said, letting out an awkward laugh, wanting to smack herself in the face. _I can't believe I just said that_ , Tracer thought, mortified. Widowmaker seemed to make her stupid, whenever she was around it was like Tracer’s head and mouth were totally disconnected; her mouth said things without her brain’s permission. Thankfully, _mercifully_ , Widowmaker ignored her.

“I wish to speak with you. It is of importance.” Tracer made a face.

“So formal, love. You know it’s just me right?” Widowmaker blinked, as if the she had no idea what Tracer was on about this time. Lena sighed.

“Just tell me what’s on your mind.” She said timidly, afraid to reveal too much in her tone. She was relieved. And weirdly happy to see her, even if she didn’t know quite what to think about that fact that a deadly assassin working for a terrorist organization breaking into her apartment had become a welcome occurrence.

Widowmaker took a few steps further into the room, her back to Tracer.

“About our last conversation...” The sniper started. Panic overtook Tracer at the subject. She figured that was why she’d come, but she didn’t think she’d get into things that quickly. Well, this was Widowmaker though, she thought to herself. The woman was almost always precise and to the point with her words.

“Yeah about that...” Tracer shifted, scratching at the back of her head uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. About what I said. I shouldn’t have overstepped.” She couldn’t see her face to tell what her expression was.

“Are you saying the words were untrue?” Her tone gave nothing away. Lena took a deep breath. She was going to be honest. No holding back.

“I meant it.” She said with conviction. There was no reply. Unable to stand still, she started pacing, babbling to fill the silence in hopes it would calm her down. “I mean, not that I expect you to make any grand declarations or anything in response, that was just me being honest is all.” Lena was facing away from her now, and she felt the assassin's eyes following her as she moved. “I didn’t plan on saying anything, if I had I would have picked a-”

“Lena.” Widowmaker said, cutting her off. Tracer stopped mid step as she felt a slim hand grip her wrist tightly, holding her in place. She sucked in a breath, letting it out shakily as the hand trailed a path up her arm before coming to rest on her shoulder. Cool lips ghosted against her neck. Lena's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation.

“What are you doing?” She whispered, feeling Widowmaker’s teeth graze her neck slightly. Abruptly she was spun around to face the other woman. Her gaze was piercing and Tracer started to tremble under its intensity. She watched as the taller woman’s gaze flitted across her face, before finally settling on her lips. Widowmaker traced her thumb over Lena’s bottom lip. She felt her mouth open slightly in response as she gasped.

“I am not sure,” she murmured, moving closer, “I can’t seem to make myself hate you. I am... uncertain why.” She trailed off, the motion of her thumb stilling. Lena felt her own features soften at the words, her heart beating wildly. It was the closest thing to a confession of feelings Widowmaker was able to give. She felt light and warm at the statement.

“You don’t want to go?” she whispered, eyes hopeful. Widowmaker shook her head slowly.

“ _Non_. I do not.”

Tracer was the one who leaned in first. The kiss was drastically different than those they’d shared before. Those had been angry, passionate, but ultimately devoid of any intimate connection. This was delicate, as if both of women were afraid of ruining it if they pushed it too far. Their lips moved gently against each other, slowly and with a purpose. It was chaste, and good, and everything their interactions hadn’t been thus far. It was new.

Widowmaker pulled back first, breathing heavier than normal, and pressed her forehead against Tracer’s.

“I want to stay,” she breathed out. Tracer let out a trembling sigh, content in the moment.

“Then stay with me.” Widowmaker opened her eyes to meet Tracers. There was a calmness in them, a peace that Tracer wanted to see more often. It suited her.

This wasn’t going to be perfect by any means. She knew that. Things were still incredibly fucked up, and Tracer knew that if either Overwatch or Talon found out about this development they’d both be dead.

Sharing space was incredibly strange at first, neither quite sure what to do with their hands. Tracer spent the first ten minutes with her arms awkwardly at her sides, making sure to keep a good amount of distance between them. After another five minutes she realized she was being stupid and wrapped a hesitant arm around Widowmaker's waist, testing to see how she'd react. The older woman wasn't used to the contact, freezing up immediately, but slowly she began to relax. Eventually, they were pressed together lightly in a warm embrace.

It needed work. Widowmaker was still slightly too tense for it to be considered totally comfortable, something that would take a lot longer to work through. Tracer felt incredibly self conscious about her chronal accelerator, shifting frequently in fear of making Widowmaker uncomfortable. It wasn't perfect. There was so much more to do.

But for now, despite the lingering uncertainty that remained, she was content to sleep with her arm wrapped tightly around the assassin’s waist, pressed up against her back and just being with her. She felt more calm than she had in a long time.

Lena fell asleep that night knowing that the sniper would still be there in the morning. They would still disagree constantly, and Widowmaker would still be just as morally questionable as always. They would still be on opposing sides when they met on the battlefield. But Lena was realizing that really, she wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end, I hope you guys liked it! I will definitely be doing more with the two of them so stay tuned in the future. Since I am actual trash and would rather write these two than do my school work :D I just love all the possibilities that come with writing them, there's so much to interpret.  
> Also! Credit goes to scientistclone for editing this! Kudos to you!


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